


The Man on the White Horse

by EriksChampion



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M, period drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 04:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17114354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EriksChampion/pseuds/EriksChampion
Summary: The Ishtar family has been charged with protecting their Lord Atem's palace until the war's end. The war drags on, they've heard no news, and Lord Kaiba's revolutionary forces are inching their way across the country. Isis has a secret, and may soon find herself closer to the center of this war than she ever imagined.





	The Man on the White Horse

**Author's Note:**

> (warning for brief mention of abortion and miscarriage, fight scene)

Isis stood and wiped a thin film of sweat from her forehead. She cast a sharp, hurried glance over her shoulder and, briefly, beyond the rolling hills. She could see little through the mist.

Isis swallowed hard, trying to shake the numbness out of her fingers as she straightened her dress and rearranged the contents of her basket. With a shallow breath, she tucked a small handful of herbs into a fold of her bodice.

For a moment she pressed them against her breast, hard enough to leave imprints on her skin. She held her breath and tried to still her heart, listening only to the dark emptiness of the morning. She closed her eyes. But there was nothing—no echo off the road, no heated and aching cry—the kind that beat against her like a drum and made her flow like a river—languid and ferociously clear—for days, even long after he had vanished into the wind and flown very far from here.

Isis sighed, turned her back, and began the long, soggy trudge back up the slope to the gatehouse.

By the time she reached the iron gate, her skirt was soaked in mud nearly up to her knees, and the embers burning on the end of Malik’s pipe was still the brightest light on the horizon.

He watched her as she approached, steps suddenly heavy.

“You left early this morning.” The smoke at the end of his pipe mingled with the frost on his breath. Every time he spoke it looked as if his soul was trying to escape his body.

“The fire went out in my chamber.” She held out her basket of firewood. “It went to replenish it.”

Malik leaned forward slightly, then slouched back against the wall, scowling. “Those damp twigs won’t burn.”

Isis shrugged and continued walking, but Malik held out an arm to stop her.

“Sister, wait. Come here. There’s something I want to show you.” He stood behind her and pointed over her shoulder, to the faint ribbon of the road. “You see that spot there? I’ve noticed the strangest thing while I’ve been out on my watch. Sometimes I see a man down there. A man dressed all in black, riding the brightest white stallion that I’ve ever seen. Who do you think it could be—coming out here to the middle of nowhere?”

“I don’t know.”

Malik growled, and Isis could feel his body tense behind her. “ _I_  know. Who else would come to this countryside—this palace—in the heart of winter with no companion? Only spies for the insurgency.” One tooth at a time, his mouth curled into a cruel grin—something resembling the curve of a scythe. “Next time I see that man, I am going to see whether our Master Atem’s famous artillery battery is still up to the King’s standard.”

Isis spun to face him. “You would murder an innocent man with no provocation—no evidence of wrongdoing?”

Malik snorted. “He’s hardly innocent. This land has been forbidden to outsiders since the war began. I would be well within my rights to kill him the moment he sets foot on our road.”

Isis turned back to the point where Malik had pointed—the faintest shadow of civilization on the edge of the fog and shadows. “You would kill to prove a point.”

Malik laughed, and the sound echoed on and on, rolling down the hillside.

“I would kill to make something happen.” Malik stamped the ground—made a hard, frozen noise. “I’m tired of waiting here, waiting for the rebels to come and kill us all.”

“That will not happen. Our Master will return.”

Malik laughed so violently that Isis heard sparks at the back of his throat. “Please, sister, our dear Master Atem has erased us from his memory. Not even the dead would remember us here.”

“He has not forgotten us.”

“If that’s the case then he’s far crueler than I ever thought.”

Malik hurled a stone over the edge of the hill, and they watched it roll down together, until it became lost in the tall grass. Isis heard him turn and walk through the gate. She held her arms tightly against her chest and stood at the edge of the gatehouse until she could no longer feel her feet.

-xxx-

Rishid met her in the dining hall, sitting at the head of the long, empty table. They sat in silence for several moments, watching the fire being swallowed up the chimney, too fast for them to feel it.

“Malik tells me that he believes we are being besieged by insurgency spies.”

Isis nodded quietly.

“Should I write to Master Atem?”

Isis waited a moment before replying, chewing the inside of her lip. “And who would carry the letter?”

Rishid shrugged. Isis could hear his joints crack. “I would not mind taking the journey…though only if you felt that you and Malik were safe here.”

Isis’ hands twitched slightly at her sides. “Perhaps, if there really is a threat beyond the hillside, it would be better for you to remain.”

Isis’ back stiffened as Malik trampled into the dining hall. He made for the fireplace, where he picked up a long iron poker and began to prod the rapidly diminishing fire. “And why should Rishid not remain here, desolate and alone like the rest of us? Our beloved Master Atem would hardly approve of desertion, now would he?” He chuckled into the small flurry of sparks.

“I was considering sending a message to Master Atem, warning him of the potential insurgent base.”

Malik chewed on this thought for a moment, stabbing the logs in the fireplace until they shattered. “And why should I let Master Atem rob me of my glory.”

“Malik, we could hardly hold off an insurgent army on our own.”

Malik smirked, and his eyes seemed to simmer. “Speak for yourself, Rishid.”

“Rishid is right, Malik.” Isis bit her bottom lip, kneaded her hands into a tight ball in her lap. “We ought to avoid provoking an attack, and work instead on devising a defensive strategy.” Her eyes darted momentarily towards Rishid, then hung there, with a kind of silent plea. “Remain here.”

“And wait for the entirety of Lord Kaiba’s army to come to us?!” Malik snarled, throwing the iron poker to the floor. He huffed and scowled at her with a look that burned along her skin. “That’s not the type of strategy you would have recommended six months ago!”

“Much has changed since then.”

Malik snorted. “Indeed. You’ve become a coward.”

Isis felt her jaw clench, but kept her voice soft. “Perhaps I have learned that there are some things that are worth more to me than my pride.”

“This stupid old castle?!” Malik turned from her and began to storm out of the room, but stopped to call over his shoulder, “You would die defending  _this_?! Pathetic.”

He did not hear her whisper in reply. “Perhaps I would try.”

Rishid was staring into the smoke. “Sister, I understand your hesitation—but I believe that Malik is right. We cannot lie here in wait, not knowing what may come. I think it would be best if I went to investigate the surrounding territories.” He placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed in gently. “I will not be gone long—there is nothing for you to fear.”

“No.” Her heart began to beat faster, but her blood was cold. It made her shiver. “Don’t go—you may not know what will happen if you remain here but  _I know what will happen if you leave_.”

Rishid frowned. “Sister…” He lifted his hand, cradled her cheek. “Why are you so afraid…is there something—”

“No!” Isis pulled away suddenly. The legs of her chair scraped against the floor. “I am not frightened. Not for myself.”

He smiled at her and stood. “Sister, you know that those arguments will never sway me.” He drifted away from her, down the table, down the hall.

She and Malik stood at the foot of the gatehouse and watched him ride away, cloak billowing in the wind. Isis’ breath caught as she watched him dissolve into fog.

“This isn’t fair! If anyone should be allowed to leave here it should be me!”

Isis watched Malik pace and fidget. “You are in no condition to try to sneak past insurrection forces, Malik. They would detect you in an instant.” She paused. “You’re anxious, my brother. Let me stand watch tonight.”

-xxx-

It was impossible to tell time in the winter. The sunlight was thin and pale, never more than a thin wisp half-hidden in the clouds. At night there were no stars and no moon—the world was swallowed in fog.

Isis perched on a stool in the servant’s kitchen, chin resting on her knees and arms clenched around her calves, and she kept time with the fervent beating of her heart. And she waited, wishing that she could claw at the silence and slice it apart until it fell in tatters to the floor.

She reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out her small bundle of herbs. She crushed them between her fingers until they ran like blood against her palms, and gently brought them to her nose. She closed her eyes and smelled spring—earth, lust, and sunlight—the shameless pride of being alive. She smelled bitterness and death and iron—all the young men lying dead in the countryside. Whatever it was that was inside of her.

And then she heard him.

He moved like a gust of wind—deep and dark and serious—that sliced through skin and falsity and—Isis sighed—and her.

He was a long shadow stretched against the floor, a silhouette running up the wall, thunder and lightning and ice.

Isis flinched when she felt his hands on her shoulders.

“Look at me.”

Isis shook her head. A man dressed all in black, riding a white stallion. She tried to blink back the pressure building behind her eyes. “You should not have come.”

He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “And here I thought you might have missed me.”

“My brother has seen you. He wants to kill you.”

“Him and half the country.”

“They’ll find you—you and your soldiers. Rishid will report your presence to Lord Atem and to the King and then the royal soldiers will come and they will kill you.”

He began to run his fingers through her hair. “Well, Isis, I’m glad that even after all our time together you still have so little faith in me.”

Isis tried to keep herself from moving, but as cold as his fingers were, she was colder still—and his touch was bubbling heat—like something that had grown in the center of the earth. “It is not a matter of having faith. You should not have come. You should leave here.” He didn’t move. “Now!”

He released her shoulders, and moved to crouch at her knees. And Isis could not look away—not from his chapped and purpled lips, at the small bruise on his cheekbone, the way that his eyes never seemed fully open unless he was looking at her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and let his fingers remain there, in her hair, caressing the edges of her temples. “I will. If you come with me.”

“I can’t do that.”

He frowned. “Why not? Are you really that loyal to Lord Atem—still? You’d stay here protecting his dying castle?!”

“No.” Isis’ breath caught. She stared at her hands, limp and dark in her lap. “Seto, I’m pregnant.”

“So?”

“That’s all you have to say?!”

“I fail to see the problem. Come with me.”

“Seto—” Isis stood and began to walk stiffly to the other end of the room. “I am pregnant. I cannot ride on one of your warhorses. I cannot spend months hiding in the hills. I cannot leave here. You can. Go.”

“Of course you can ride a horse!”

Isis scowled. “I have seen women drowning in blood on their deathbeds because they believed that they could endure trying journeys while they were with child. Have  _you_  seen it? Would you have me risk that fate?”

He didn’t reply.

Isis stiffened her shoulders and pulled her shoulders back. “Then it appears that we are in agreement about what we must do.”

“And what will you tell your brothers—when the time comes? Immaculate conception is quite a rare occurrence, you know.”

Isis shrugged, but her expression remained stony. “I will think of something. It is not your concern.”

Seto shifted slightly. “Have you considered—ending it?”

Isis closed her eyes and nodded silently. She held out her fist, still tightly clenched around her small bundle of herbs. “The thought may have crossed my mind.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a kind of nakedness that he had never seen when she had taken off her clothes. “But I can’t do it. I won’t. That is why you have to go.”

“I won’t leave you here.”

Isis stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm. She tried not to get too close, tried not to breathe him in. But Seto Kaiba always had a way of making everything impossibly close. “Seto, I am in far more danger with you than I am on my own. We both know that.”

“I will protect you.”

Isis smiled and raised a brow. “You—protect me? The man I disarmed in under a minute when I caught him stealing eggs from my chicken coup?”

Seto rolled his eyes and chuckled. “In a rare moment of mortal frailty.” He leaned down and smirked against her ear. “Our King’s soldiers are not nearly so beautiful.”

He slowly raised her chin and pressed their lips together. And for a moment that was all there was.

Until they heard a clatter behind the door.

“Isis! Isis! I thought I heard voices. Is—”

By the time Malik flung open the kitchen door Seto was already half way across the room, sword drawn, eyes blazing. He caught Isis’ eye and withered under her glare.

“If you lay one hand upon my brother I swear upon all the land that falls under our Gods’ dominion that that move will be your last.”

“Isis! What is going on here?!” Malik cried. He pointed to Seto. “Who is this man?!”

Seto made to tuck his sword back beneath his cloak. “I am nothing but—”

“No—“ Malik stepped closer. His eyes grew wide, then seemed to glow red with ecstatic rancor. “I know you…” Malik’s eyes tore at Kaiba’s cloak, embossed with his family crest. “You’re Lord Kaiba—the most notorious criminal in the entire country.” His laughter ripped the air. “And I could kill you in my kitchen.”

Malik lunged at him, oblivious to Isis’ cries. When Kaiba evaded his grasp, he snatched a broom from the corner and raced forward—holding the handle out like a lance. Seto turned to face him, flourishing his sword.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.”

Malik’s mouth curved into a venomous smirk. “I don’t think so.”

Malik threw himself forward, now wielding his broom like a longsword, and the two of them crashed into a pile of baskets and fell against the kitchen floor. Malik drove the end of his broom handle into Seto’s hand—forcing him to release his sword—then straddled his chest, pressing the ends of his broom against Seto’s windpipe and pinning his arms against the ground.

“Yes—” Malik cried, breathing heavily. “I could kill you here—and then all the glory in the kingdom would belong to me!” He laughed, fiery and manic, and continued to bear down on Seto’s chest. “Lord Atem will be forced to bow to  _me_!”

“Malik.” He froze when he felt Isis behind him, her fingers digging into his shoulder. “Think for a moment about what you are contemplating! If Lord Atem found that you had acted without his orders he would have you executed in an instant!”

Malik twisted his neck to look up at her. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” Her grip on his shoulder tightened until he began to wince. “If you kill this man now, without official orders, you will find no glory—only an endless line of enemies.”

Malik ground his teeth together and scowled down at Seto. “Then what do you recommend we do?”

Isis let out a shuddering breath. “We’ll lock him in the cellar, and await our Lord’s return.”

-xxx-

Seto stumbled in the darkness. “Your guest accommodations leave much to be desired.”

Isis’ voice remained stiff. “You are not our guest. You are a prisoner.”

Seto sighed and sank onto an upturned crate, cradling his forehead in his hands. “Do you have any idea of what you’ve done? When they wake tomorrow and see I’ve not returned they’ll tear the country apart looking for me. And when they find me here—” His voice dropped as cold as stone. “You should have let your brother kill me. Then thrown my body on the fire. That way they would have no evidence to use against you.” He paused. “The way it stands now—the entire weight of the revolutionary force will come bearing down on this palace.”

Isis swallowed, glared into the immense darkness that surrounded them, and did not reply.

When Seto spoke again his voice was like cracks in ice. “How long have you known?”

Isis’ hand drifted up to her abdomen. “I have not bled in eight weeks.”

Seto nodded, then leaned back, resting his head against the cold stone wall. “You would have let me die—if you had any sense.”

Isis sat beside him, took his hand, and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Perhaps I do not. Or perhaps I am waiting to watch you die of humiliation when I tell your entire army of how my brother disarmed you with a broomstick?”

Seto chuckled. The sound echoed off the walls and wrapped itself around them like a shield. “I was emotionally compromised.” He reached under his shirt and pulled a thick, silver chain up over his head. “Take this,” he urged, pressing a small silver blade into her hand. “For when the soldiers arrive.”

Isis looked up at him, slightly startled. “What is this…?”

“My lucky knife.”

“I thought you did not believe in luck.”

Seto shrugged. “I believe in whatever is convenient. Just take it. Please.”

“You do realize that we have an entire armory.”

“I know.” Seto paused to wet his lips. “But I promised that I would protect you.”

Isis turned the blade over in her hands for a moment, watching the way it caught their reflections, before she slid the chain around her neck. “Thank you.”

She pressed her lips against his cheek, then against his mouth. His hands trembled in her hair.

With a long and aching breath, Isis pulled away and slipped away from his touch. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, with her back turned to him, then cast another glance over her shoulder.

She stepped into the hallway and locked the cellar door.


End file.
